Choices
by Torey Hylton
Summary: (Oneshot) Jill Valentine is stuck in a room with a super-zombie hot on her tail. She is running out of time. Jill realises that she soon has some very tough choices to make...


She was deep in the heart of the mansion, in a room with no windows, a door that was lockable from the inside and with an almost calming light source coming from the rose-coloured lampshade on the ceiling. There was a double bed in the far-side of the room but the rest of the room was sparsely furnished; a cupboard, a small wardrobe and a vanity table with a mirror that had a crack running along its left side.

The décor was warm. Beige carpet, old and slightly worn, yet it was peaceful to look at. The walls were Sicilian yellow and reminded Jill of the summer times she used to spend in Mediterranean Europe when she was a teenager. Except this time, she wasn't in Europe. She wasn't basking in the sunshine, sipping cocktails and reading romance novels by the pool. This time she was stuck in a zombie-infested mansion in the middle of Racoon Forest and had no chance to escape.

She had been foolish and had wasted her ammo on a particularly virulent strain of zombie that would not die. Twelve shotgun blasts later and with all of Jill's Beretta rounds embedded in its rotten flesh, she had fled past the beast, its pus covered hand brushing past her left leg. Now it was after her. It had chased her through the dining hall, through the main hall, up the stairs and into an upstairs corridor. It wasn't particularly fast, but it was more agile than its fumbling counterparts. Still, she had managed to evade it and found herself here, where she was safe; for now.

She could hear movement; a faint 'thump thump' sound and a barely audible scraping sound. It was close and knew that she was close too. It was searching for her. Time was running out and she had to act fast if she wanted to secure the room and seal her fate.

She looked around at the small wardrobe and looked inside. It was empty except for a not-quite white lab coat and a bottle of rat poison. She found it quite funny that rat poison would be kept in such a place as this. Surely rats were the least of their problems. She quickly discarded the thought, closed the wardrobe doors and pushed it towards the door. It was heavy and Jill could feel her stomach muscles tensing up and her biceps bulge.

The room was at last completely secured. The zombie would know she was here. It would not, however, know how to get in, neither would it have the strength to do so. Or so she hoped. Now she had a bigger challenge to face; the act of suicide.

Jill had never been a defeatist. She was a realist, and sometimes reality was bleak. There were choices to make in life. Some of those choices changed lives for the better and others destroyed them. Sometimes, it wasn't that simple. Here and now, Jill had two choices. Get killed and eaten by her pursuer or kill herself before it happened. One was bad, the other was worse.

She could taste adrenalin on her tongue. Her heart shuddered and boomed in her chest. She felt sick. She looked at the pillows on the bed. They looked dusty. How long would it take to smother herself with a pillow? If only she had some ammo left. A quick shot to the temple and it would all be over.

She kept looking at the pillows and realised that she would not be able to go through with that. She would panic. She would hyperventilate. She knew she was going to die, but she didn't want to suffer. That was one choice she had made and she was going to stick with it.

She had a knife on her, but discarded the thought as soon as it had entered her mind. She knew she wouldn't be able to go through with it. She would hesitate. The initial pain of the penetration would be too much for her. So what other option did she have?

The rat poison. She raced over to the cupboard and flung open the door. The bottle contained a dark brown liquid that looked nauseating. On the bottle was a skull and crossbones, indicating that it was a deadly substance. She wondered if it would hurt, or whether she would pass out before the poison started destroying her vital organs.

She willed herself to stop thinking about it, that thinking about doing things was the bane of actually doing them. She needed to do this. What other choice did she have? As if spurring her on, there was a thud and the sound of wood splintering from a distance, which indicated that the zombie was trying, and succeeding, to fight its way through a wooden door.

Jill grabbed the poison, pulled off the cap and downed it. It was done. The final choice had been made. The liquid tasted sweet, with a tangy metallic undertone that set her teeth on edge. It didn't taste like poison but the dizziness that overtook her just seconds after drinking it indicated that it was. She stumbled towards the bed and collapsed on to it. She lay flat on the mattress, closed her eyes and thought about the end; oh, how peaceful it would be when it came and took her away from this place.

She could feel her nerves tingling and her head buzzing and spinning as the poison worked its way through her system. She could hear herself breathing deeply, slowly, and then she could hear nothing at all. She started to float upwards and could feel herself rising into the air on a bed of pure air. And then there was nothing. She had done it. She had made her final choice.

The End


End file.
